


blind devotion

by mechabre



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, sad and gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechabre/pseuds/mechabre
Summary: Belial was riding this ship to the bitter end, no matter where it took them. It was romantic, in one way, but it was its own punchline in another.---a moment before the primal rebellion is set in motion.





	blind devotion

The eye of the hurricane.

Any minute now the sleeper agents Belial had scattered among the angels and the Fallen would receive their missives, and the primals would begin to rebel. All hell would break loose; it would be the beginning of the end for the Astral empire, but only when it started. For now, the two of them had nothing to do but wait. The lab in which they waited was the same one Lucilius had worked and Belial had loitered in hundreds of times; clean and cluttered at once, littered with the evidence of his creator's life's work, his passion, his drive and his discipline. He'd crack a joke now and then, before, about how provocative it was for Cilius to let it all hang out. Right now, it was hard to get in the mood to.

Belial had a very bad feeling about this.

Not that his creator's plan would fail, no -- the die had been cast with precision and finesse. There was no possibility for error, contingencies stacked on contingencies like so many dominoes. But his role required endless foresight, and when Belial looked forwards to the consequences of their actions, he didn't like what he saw. He refused to think about it deeper than that. He didn't know if that was a limiter installed in him or his own blind devotion, and it didn't matter. Belial was riding this ship to the bitter end, no matter where it took them. It was romantic, in one way, but it was its own punchline in another.

"I love you, you know."

Belial's voice cut the silence of the room like a knife. Lucilius didn't respond, didn't even look up, but his hands stilled over the Primal core he was tinkering with.

"You weren't designed to." Cilius said, a tense edge to his voice, like any other time a creation of his displayed unexpected behavior. "Sometimes I think you might be trying to get yourself decommissioned. Keep saying things like that when I'm low on cores, and see what happens."

Of course. He didn't expect any other answer. Belial laughed softly.

"Oh, come on, Cilius, you couldn't do that to me now." He fell into their banter easily. His moment's vulnerability was already chafing at him. "We're in too deep, you and I. Get rid of me, and you'll have no one left."

"And that's precisely why you've deluded yourself in this way, I suspect," Lucilius mused. "Someone's put this idea in your head, and you've no one else to project it on. I designed you to manipulate, and I suppose that would mean exploring emotional states you have no ability to truly experience, in order to twist them more effectively."

He returned to his work, and Belial was grateful. He could watch those clever hands for hours.

Perhaps Lucilius was right. Perhaps he knew more about Belial's limits and parameters than the primarch himself, even after all these years they'd spent pushing them. It was certainly the more probable, the more comforting possibility. That he was pretending for experimentation's sake.

Pretending so hard his ribcage ached.

Well. One thing he _had_ been designed to be is an exceptional actor.

"So cold, Cilius," Belial chuckled, stretching like a cat, stalking around the laboratory counter to peer over his creator's shoulder at his work. "Is this how you act every time you get a love confession? I wonder how many hearts you've already broken."

"Enough." Lucilius waved him off, instantly tense with his proximity. "Too close. Get out. I've got more important things to do than entertain your flights of fancy, and you've got better things than to be making them."

"Okay, okay, I'll give you some space," Belial backed off obediently, turning towards the door. What he says next, he says over his shoulder, reluctant to even chance eye contact. "But, you know? I was serious, as far as I'm concerned. I just want you to remember that if things go south, alright?"

"Sincerity doesn't suit you. Go."

"Fine, fine." Belial laughed. It was all he could do.

Outside the door to Lucilius's laboratory it'd gotten lively; messengers rushing back and forth, panic thick in the air like a blanket of smoke. One of them burst through the doors to the lab, and Belial ducked out at the same time. It was starting. Their doomed ship had crossed through the eyewall, and from there on out, there was no going back. There was a shiver at the base of his spine with the anticipation; his mind worked reviewing the plan and how things will go.

Belial would see the two of them through this, no matter what he had to do.

**Author's Note:**

> rises from the swamp to throw my feelings into a new fandom before disappearing again
> 
> twitter at @mech4bre


End file.
